


XXX

by elldotsee



Series: Anniversary Ficlets 2020 [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence - His Last Vow, Charles Augustus Magnussen - Freeform, Janine Hawkins (Sherlock) - Freeform, Kissing, Lady Smallwood - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock has good morals, casefic, more kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elldotsee/pseuds/elldotsee
Summary: Summary: “Three kisses indicate a romantic attachment”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Anniversary Ficlets 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807645
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76
Collections: 10 Years of Sherlock





	XXX

**X**

“Molly’s invited us to her house for dinner tonight. Real casual, she said. She’s even got a new boyfriend! Said she tried texting you a few days ago, but when you didn’t answer, she thought to try me. Dunno why she didn’t just text me first. I told her we could be there by half-six, if we hurry. It’s already after five. I’m just going to pop into the shower and — Sherlock. Have you heard a single word I’ve said?” 

Sherlock looked up then with a smile on his face. John smiled back, nodding as he turned toward the loo. 

“Okay good. ‘Cause I know how you get when I’ve been gone all day. Sometimes you forget to start listening to other humans again. I’ll just—”

“The fire, John. Remember Guy Fawkes night? I have been trying to work out who’s behind it for weeks.” He waved his hand at the wall behind the sofa, decorated with its usual web of photos, string, scraps of paper. Sherlock’s brain in physical form. “Who knew that I was back? Who would know to use you to get at me? Well that one’s easy, apparently. It’s everyone. No don’t look at me like that, I know. But who knew to come here to find you? If they’d been watching, they’d have known you weren’t living here. Unless they got lucky and _didn’t_ know you hadn’t been living here. 

All I’ve been hitting are dead ends, again and again. Mycroft came today and while he was blathering on about some ‘national emergency’, it hit me. Somewhere in the Diogenes Club — the only place I’d been before I was set to meet you here — there’s a leak. Charles Magnussen— surely you’ve heard of him? Newspaper mogul, owns nearly every media—” 

“Yes, I’ve bloody well heard of Magnussen but what does that have to do with —”

Sherlock blinked, but didn’t lose any steam, the words tumbling out possibly even faster as his excitement grew. 

“Someone at the Diogenes Club must have seen me and couldn’t wait to report it to Magnussen. Big headline, I’m sure. Must have been worth a fortune. _Sherlock Holmes returns from the dead._ Except it wasn’t. He never published it, but used that information to try and get my attention. And he did, I came and I rescued you. He should’ve made some sort of attempt to contact me by now, I’d think. 

Then today, I found _this_ in my email.” Sherlock thrusts his mobile at John. 

“A Lady Alicia Smallwood. Says she’s an acquaintance of Mycroft’s. I checked, she’s legit. She’s being blackmailed by this Magnussen creep and she wants me to help. I think it’s a trap, John! I think he’s using her, knowing her connection to me, to entice me again. I’ve set up a meeting with her for Sunday, but of course I won’t attend, because I’ll have already met with Magnussen. I’ve already arranged a meeting in another part of Magnussen Towers tonight. We’ll sneak in and… what? Why are you looking at me like that? Have I got— _oh!”_

John pulled away gently, the lingering taste of Sherlock warm and comfortable on his lips. It had been a chaste kiss, and it had served its purpose. 

Sherlock blinked rapidly, looking for all the world as though he was rebooting his massive brain.

“Did you… was that— Did you kiss me just to _shut me up, John?”_

John grinned at the affronted look on Sherlock’s face before he turned and sauntered away, calling cheekily over his shoulder: 

“Yeah, pretty much. Do we have time for dinner before our covert rendezvous? I hope so, cause I’m famished.” 

Sherlock didn’t answer, so John left him there spluttering and slipped into the loo, the smile never leaving his face. 

* * *

**XX**

“What do you mean, you _think?”_ John hissed at Sherlock, though there was no one to hear them since they were alone in the lift.

“My inside contact only mentioned one guard but said she thought she could distract him enough so we could get inside.” 

John’s hand went immediately to the waistband of his jeans as the lift came to a smooth stop. The doors opened, but both men paused, listening. 

When they didn’t hear a sound, Sherlock motioned with his head for John to go first. He walked out, sliding the pistol out and clicking off the safety with practised movements. At first glance, the spacious reception area appeared to be empty, but something to John’s right caught his eye. He turned, but Sherlock was quicker, already moving toward the dark shape partially hidden by a large plant. It was a man, wearing a discreet uniform that John assumed to be security. There was a largish pool of blood around his head, and a wet floor sign propped open a metre from his feet.

“When she said _distract_ , I thought she meant show him a funny YouTube video, not kill him.” John whispered through clenched teeth. He was tense, his head swivelling as Sherlock crouched next to the man. “Made it look like a plausible accident though.”

“He’s breathing, but he’s gonna need an ambulance. You stay with him. I’ll go look for whoever did this.” Sherlock’s voice was equally quiet, though it carried with it a note of anxiety. This was not part of the plan. John scowled and shook his head. 

“I’ll call, but I’m coming with you.” 

Sherlock was already getting to his feet, pressing his finger to his lips and glancing around. 

“No, the paramedics can’t suspect anything or Magnussen will be notified. Might be already. I have to hurry while there’s still time to take him by surprise.” 

“Sherlock…” John exhaled sharply through his nose, already dialling 999. None of this felt right. He didn’t want Sherlock walking into a trap but he couldn’t in good conscious leave this bloke here with what could be a pretty serious head injury. He mimed a gun with his fingers. “Got yours?” Sherlock nodded. 

“Ok, just. Hurry. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right behind you.” 

Sherlock nodded again before creeping away silently, his head swivelling. John pressed send on his mobile, watching as Sherlock disappeared around a corner. The dispatcher answered and John gave the address, speaking quickly as his anxiety rose. The security guard groaned, coming round. John leaned over him, assuring the dispatcher that he was trained in first aid and could handle keeping an eye on until the paramedics arrived before disconnecting. He didn’t give his real name or profession, though he knew he could easily be tracked here because of his phone. 

John sat back on his heels to wait, staring at the thick wall of glass before him showing off a dazzling view of the city. He listened hard for any sign of Sherlock or the paramedics, but the building was eerily silent around him. He picked up the bloke’s wrist to take his pulse as he moaned again, his head twisting back and forth on the ground. 

“Don’t want to do that. Got a nasty blow to the head. Gonna need a few sutures, I’m sure. Ambulance will be here soon. Just sit ti—” 

From somewhere deeper in the building, John heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. In a flash, he was up and running toward the sound, all thoughts of secrecy and his Hippocratic oath forgotten. He tore up a twisting set of stairs, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest, in sync with the mantra in his head: 

_Not Sherlock, not Sherlock, please don’t let it be Sherlock._

At the top of the stairs, he skidded to a stop at the sound of a female’s voice. He forced himself to take a deep breath, reaching around to retrieve his gun from his waistband. It wouldn’t do to get himself killed before he even found Sherlock. He flattened himself against the wall, risking a quick glance around the doorjamb. What he saw set his pulsing racing again. A woman stood with a gun in her hand, pointed at the ground, a pair of black trousers and men’s black leather shoes all John could see of the victim. The woman was clad in all black and had a balaclava pulled up to her forehead. 

A hand clamped suddenly over his mouth and a long, lean body pressed up behind him. John’s first instinct was to throw his head back into his assailant’s teeth but his name hissed in his ear stopped him up short. He whirled around, the hand over his mouth releasing him and raising into the air to join the other. 

“Sh— oh my _god,_ I heard the gun, I thought for sure… _fuck._ ”

John grabbed Sherlock by the head none-too-gently and pressed a kiss to his mouth, taking care to be as quiet as possible. It was frantic, a desperate confirmation that Sherlock really was okay. Sherlock cut it short after only a moment, but his eyes were apologetic. He leaned forward to put his mouth close to John’s ear. 

“I know. I’m sorry. Tell you everything soon. We need to _go._ ” 

John nodded and started to turn but hesitated, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “But don’t you think we should help?” 

Sherlock shook his head and swiped quickly through his phone before holding it up to show John. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “I recognise her. She’s the catalyst for Lady Smallwood’s blackmail. Decided to take matters into her own hands. This no longer concerns us and the paramedics will be here any moment.”

John nodded again and followed Sherlock down the stairs, slipping out of the building by way of an emergency exit staircase. Sherlock was right. This wasn’t their problem. Though it niggled him a bit, he couldn’t be bothered with more than that, his body flooded with overwhelming relief over Sherlock’s safety. He reached down as they jogged away from the building to find a cab and found Sherlock’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. Sherlock returned the gesture. 

* * *

**XXX**

Sherlock dusted off his hands, rising fluidly to his feet. “Not enough data to be certain, but it looks to be a suicide.”

Lestrade frowned, the lines of his forehead deepening. “But what about the security guard? You don’t honestly think he slipped, do you?” 

“No reason not to. Floor had recently been mopped— the cleaning woman confirmed that. She mopped around half-eight, then took the lift down. Receptionist used the loo shortly after, heard a crash and found him sprawled on the floor like that. Sounds to me like an accident, no reason to think otherwise.” 

Sherlock shrugged, moving to the door. “These magnate types have a high suicide rate and understandably so. No mystery here whatsoever. John? Good evening, Lestrade, we’ll be on our way. Have something more interesting for me next time you call, would you?”

With an echoed shrug in Lestrade’s direction, John followed Sherlock from the room and down the stairs, the same twisting staircase that he’d run up so frantically the night before. His lips were pressed together to keep his laughter in as they waved to Janine. Sherlock paused and leaned over her desk, murmuring words too quietly for John to hear. The corner of her mouth quirked up, but otherwise she appeared to be engrossed in her work, tapping at her computer screen. Sherlock straightened and John caught the quick wink he tossed in Janine’s direction before he spun on his heel and strode to the lift. 

“Evening, Miss Hawkins.” 

They kept their composure through the main lobby and all the way home in the cab, besides exchanging quick glances and smothered smiles. But by the time they made it through the front door of Baker Street, they couldn’t contain it any longer. They leaned against the wall, breathing hard through their giggles in a way reminiscent of their first night together, so many years ago. 

John sobered finally, turning to look Sherlock square in the face. 

“Did we just become accessories to murder?” 

Sherlock nodded, looking thoughtful. 

“Yes. He was a very bad mad man though. Wretched work ethic.” 

John grinned. 

“It’s true. Absolutely awful.” 

Sherlock returned the grin and then abruptly leaned forward, sliding his mouth against John’s. John huffed in surprise but caught on after only a second, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s slim waist. As it started to get even more heated, Sherlock pulled back slightly, and John thought that maybe he’d gone too hard, too fast. This was all so very new for them. But Sherlock smiled, resting his soft lips against John’s forehead. 

“I wonder,” he began in a low purr, “if my favourite associate criminal would like to move this upstairs?” 

John tipped his chin up, planting a quick kiss on Sherlock’s chin before answering. “I think he would like that _very much_. Lead the way, partner in crime.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Case details borrowed from the original ACD story, "The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton." 
> 
> Mary whom? Never heard of her :-P


End file.
